No Time to Mourn
by Joella
Summary: With his brother lost forever, Daryl fights to stay the man he had become. Begins with "This Sorrowful LIfe" and continues into the break before Season Four. Spoilers for the end of Season Three.
1. Chapter 1

**No Time to Mourn**

**Chapter One**

_This is my first fanfiction in the world of The Walking Dead. I mean no copyright infringement against AMC and everyone associated with the show nor Robert Kirkland. This story takes includes my thoughts about missing scenes starting with S3 "This Sorrowful Life" so there are **spoilers**. I plan to have the story finished before Oct 13, 2013 when Season Four airs. I learned my lesson with my Leverage fic; write out the entire framework first, so you don't write something you have a hard time concluding. I hope you like this. Warnings for language. Caryl but not romance._

* * *

The Governor shoved at the body of Merle Dixon with his foot. No response. If the traitor wasn't dead yet, he soon would be. No head shot for him. The redneck had actually surprised him. He had never thought Merle would defy him to that extent. Merle had followed the rules for the chance to stay in Woodbury. He'd even stopped doing cocaine.

Woodbury was a drug free zone. Anyone caught using ended up in the arena. Weakened from blood loss and starvation, Merle had still found drugs to put in his body, but he had cleaned up after a few ugly fights. Milton had watched over Merle as he came down from his last binge. Merle had talked a lot then. Milton had shared all with the Governor. Their neighbors hadn't liked the Dixon family because the father had had a temper and struck out at anyone who thwarted him, and Merle was a sneak and a thief. Merle's time in juvenile detention and, later in the stockade, had only strengthened his own racism and anger at the world. He struck out at anyone who didn't fit into his personal worldview. The Governor also knew more about Daryl than Merle would have guessed. He knew that they'd grown up in an abusive household, that their mother had died when Daryl was young, that Merle had bullied his brother mercilessly, that Daryl hated drugs and never did anything stronger than mushrooms. Merle seemed to think Daryl would fall under his thumb again quickly but Martinez, during their brief encounter outside the barn, didn't get the impression of anything other than strength combined with sense in Rick's own second. The younger Dixon would not have fit into Woodbury at all. His presence would have brought out all Merle's old habits and would have distracted Merle from any of the Governor's plans or orders.

Merle had been a bully to the other inhabitants but had always backed down from confronting the Governor. And now Merle had tried to ambush him and his men. He'd never have guessed that Merle would have the smarts to plan something like that. Now Merle was dead. But the Governor had additional plans for him.

Martinez had reported that the younger Dixon was extremely efficient with both bow and knife yet had seemed to have a tighter rein on his temper than did his older brother. He needed to be taken down fast if they were to take the prison. If Merle had never known Daryl was still alive, Merle would still be his own right hand man so to speak. Instead, who would have known that Merle had actually cared about anyone other than himself? He'd gone off the reservation and betrayed Woodbury and lied to him. For what? A brother who had left him to die? Well, now that brother would reap what had been sown. Merle would turn soon and hopefully Daryl would come looking for him. He wanted to stay to watch, but he had other things to plan. Other traitors to deal with.

Still, the Governor wondered if sending Merle had been Rick's plan. The other leader hadn't come off that way when they'd met. He thought that Rick would do anything to keep that group alive. That punk Allen had said the prison group had seemed a tight group and that they didn't like the outsiders. Michonne was an outsider too. She should have been expendable. If Daryl cared about his brother at all, he'd not have allowed Rick to put him in such danger.

Now Merle would be a distraction for Daryl. The Governor hated a man he'd only seen once in the arena. Things had been just fine, but the second Merle found out there was a chance his brother was alive, the Governor's hold over him slipped.

What confused Phillip was that if Merle had slipped back into his old habits, he should have gone after Rick. After all, that was the man responsible for Merle amputating his own hand. Daryl must have stopped that too. The Governor resolved then and there that Daryl Dixon would die. If not that day, then some day. Turning on his heel, he left Merle Dixon to turn. _Kill and die or die then kill._ Merle would do both. And so would all who betrayed him.

* * *

The increasing sound of growling walkers broke Daryl out of his grief. His right hand searched the grass to find the knife he'd dropped. It was still covered with his brother's blood. Wiping it off on his pants' leg, Daryl rose to a crouch, left arm up in a block. He attacked the three walkers in quick succession using the anger he felt towards this world he was forced to live in to add tremendous force to his blows. He scanned for other approaching walkers; there were none. He had a dilemma. He wouldn't leave Merle's body to rot. He had no shovel and no time. "_We bury our dead. We don't burn them_." Glenn's words echoed in his head. He had no choice. A sob escaped his clenched lips.

A search of the nearby buildings revealed glass jars and a garden hose. He popped off the gas cover of the brown car resting on the grassy verge and siphoned out gas. He gently pouring the gas onto his brother's body and, using a strip of cloth taken from a walker's shirt, ignited the body. Merle's face was soon obscured by flames. Black smoke rose while tears fell.

Taking up his now cocked crossbow, Daryl headed back to the prison. He'd promised Rick he'd return to the group, the only family that he had now. When he'd seen Michonne, he'd realized that Merle had some plan in mind. Without Michonne, it wouldn't have been a trade—her for the Governor leaving them alone. Merle had handled guns in the military before they broke his rank and kicked him out. Even missing a hand, he would still be a good shot. Nothing had been wrong with his aim. Scanning the ground in a widening circle, Daryl saw tire marks of trucks leaving the site. The tracks were fresh; it had rained during the night. As much as he wished, Daryl didn't think Merle had succeeded in his self-imposed mission. While Martinez was an ass, he hadn't struck Daryl as an idiot. Martinez would not have wanted to add another walker to the area. Merle had been shot in the chest **only**. That said revenge. Also. Merle had been tortured; his left hand had been missing two fingers. That implied that it was the Governor who had killed his brother. Or the Governor's direct orders, which amounted to the same thing. Daryl was going to rip his fucking face off the next time he saw him.

Leaving the area, Daryl went as the crow flew. Cross-country would get him there that much faster and his sense of direction was acute enough that he could find his way back even in the wooded areas. He took off at a ground-covering lope.

* * *

Night had fallen as Rick waited in the guard tower. Daryl and Merle should be back already. Something had gone wrong. Daryl's last words had shown that he accepted the group as his family; his earlier departure with Merle had shown them all how much family meant to him. Daryl would return. Michonne paced back and forth in front of the gate. Walkers still filled the courtyard, and the brothers would have to run that gauntlet in the dark. It was close to the full moon, which helped. It should illuminate the path for the Dixons. Rick scanned the horizon checking for dust. If the Governor attacked at night, he'd come with lots of backup in vehicles.

Behind and below him, the others were in C Block packing. They had voted to stay and fight but it would be an ambush instead of a straight up gunfight. They were clearing out everything from the cells and Hershel, Beth with Judith, and Carl would hide with a camouflaged car carrying all their gear. If things went south, Hershel would take them to a rendezvous point they'd already chosen. The others would make their way there as best they could.

_Where was Daryl?_ He should be back by now. Rick was worried that the Woodbury people might have captured Daryl again. If that happened, Daryl would be dead before they could mount a rescue. The hunter was really stealthy but it only took one wrong step, one stray bullet to stop anyone no matter how good a fighter he was. The thought of losing another member of their dwindling group was gut-wrenching. Daryl had not only earned Rick's respect and trust, but the rest of the group had come to rely on him too. He'd even developed a strong friendship with Carol and a rapport with Carl and Hershel. His loss would hurt in many ways. Rick sent up a prayer for Daryl's safe return.

Quick movement at the edge of the clearing drew his attention. No walker moved that fast. Rick raised his rifle and looked through the sight. It was too dark to determine any distinctive features. Was it Daryl or one of the Governor's people? He whistled to get Michonne's attention and pointed with the rifle's barrel what direction he'd seen movement in. He headed down the stairs to help Michonne drag open the partially repaired gate.

Michonne angled her body against the wooden flat leaning against the fence. Alerted by Rick, she waited to see who was coming. A figure came up the road. She could see the silhouette of the crossbow on the man's back. That didn't mean it was Daryl, but she relaxed minutely. No other person moved behind him. It seemed Merle was right in saying he couldn't return. She hoped that the man had found some sort of peace with himself before the end.

Daryl kept his crossbow on his back as he approached the gate. He didn't want to risk losing an arrow in the darkness. His knife was out, and he stabbed two walkers in the head that got too close. He knew someone would see him coming and wasn't surprised when the gate was dragged open. Michonne stepped into the opening to slice off the head of a walker that was too close. She kicked another away and backed into the compound. Sweat was running down his face, and he was grateful he couldn't breathe easily at that moment. He had spent the time while running back to the prison figuring out what to tell the group. He'd decided that he wouldn't tell them about Merle turning. Not right now. It was too raw; he didn't want to deal with their pity. Their sympathy would be hard enough.

He'd been locked into this own thoughts for the past several hours. He'd once held out hope that they would find Sophia. That he could do something right. His failure then had cut deep. He'd also failed to find Merle in Atlanta. Had believed they'd find Merle back at camp wrecking vengeance. No Merle. No Sophia.

The rage he felt at this new world he was living in was nothing to what he'd felt growing up. Old pain. His mother's death. His father's rages, the pain, the shame. Merle's drugged rants were understood. Merle leaving him was some sort of condemnation against his younger brother. Back then, Daryl had used his rage to keep from being chewed up by the world. He needed that protection again but he wouldn't let it out. He'd bottle it, throttle it. He would not, could not strike out against this group. This new family that he had claimed for his own.

Rick stood to one side waiting for the news he was now certain he'd hear. Daryl had come back alone.

"Merle's dead," confirmed Daryl. "The Governor shot him." He didn't share the rest. That he had been forced to kill his brother. Not now. Maybe not ever. He throttled down the rage and used it to help him stay on his feet. He was close to dropping. He slumped against the prison fence exhausted in body and spirit. Rick and Michonne exchanged a look. They wondered how this loss would affect their companion in the days to come.

Daryl didn't look Rick or Michonne in the eye. Unconsciously, he'd reverted to his body language from when Rick had first met him. Daryl had his back against the wall, and no one was going to surprise him again. With them all infected, he knew, unless he was next, that he might have to stop someone else from turning or take them down once they had. The first person he'd seen turn had been his own father. Shock stayed his hand; his uncle had taken his own brother down before he himself turned after being bitten. Daryl learned from that. It was harder to see someone you knew turn into a raving monster. That's why he'd tried to take out Jim before he'd turned. People froze when seeing someone they knew as a walker. Andrea had earned his respect being able to take out her own sister like that. Carol's cries of anguish at the discovery of Sophia still haunted his dreams. He'd been cold once; he could be that way again. He had to for his own survival.

"They voted. We're going to fight."

Daryl was grateful that Rick was not asking any questions. This distraction would help. He knew the Governor was coming; they all did, and they needed a plan. It sounded like Rick had one. He nodded, turned, and headed toward C-Block.

Reaching the doorway, Daryl paused a moment to shove all his feelings down deep and hidden. It was a skill he'd had to develop as a child. He couldn't stand to see pity in anyone's eyes. Not now.

One by one, Carol, who had been keeping a close watch on the door, then Beth, Maggie and Glenn, Hershel and Carl turned to watch the three as they came into the dim light. There was no fourth person.

"The Governor killed Merle." Daryl's voice was thin and harsh.

Carol had eyes only for Daryl. His hair hung in front of his lowered face; Carol couldn't see Daryl's eyes at all. She'd tried to get him to cut it but no success. His shoulders were slumped with fatigue and something else. He'd been angry after they'd found Sophia. This. This was worse. Daryl had never given up, not once since she'd first met the Dixons. He looked defeated now. She'd threatened Merle about messing with Daryl. But Merle wasn't around to pay the price. He **was** the price.

No one said anything. No one knew what to say. Maggie put a hand on Glenn's shoulder. She knew he'd hated Merle; she did too. They'd put up with him for Daryl's sake only. But neither wanted their friend in such pain.

Hershel felt diminished. Each loss from their group lessened them all. Even Merle's. Beth opened her mouth to speak but her father stopped her with a gentle hand. No words of comfort would help right now.

Carol turned to the stove. She was sure Daryl had not eaten since the morning, and he needed something. Daryl had left them once for his brother's sake. That had reminded Carol how much someone could get into your head so that you returned to old patterns of behavior. She'd told Beth that Daryl had his code. Family. She remembered when the Dixons had shown up at the quarry. Luckily, the group was pretty large by then. Ed and Shane had not allowed Merle to get too out of hand. The brothers had set up their camp off to one side of the road. The group had been grateful for the offered game but the fact that Merle made such a big deal about their generosity had rankled with some. The fact that it was Daryl who brought in the game was not lost on Carol, but she had noticed he let Merle take center stage. No one knew where Merle got his drugs. He'd leave on his bike and come back when he felt like it. She'd almost walked into an argument between the brothers about his being high. Luckily, the surrounding brush had hidden her from the men. Daryl had stormed off and was gone for several days after that. He never criticized Merle in front of anyone but was very touchy after those fights. They'd all learned to stay away from Daryl when Merle had been loud and obnoxious the night before. But Daryl always stood by Merle no matter what. When it came down to it, he'd discarded his truck and kept his brother's bike when they'd consolidated vehicles outside Atlanta. It was as if he was punishing himself with constant exposure to the elements.

Carol took out the food she'd kept warm. It wasn't much. She handed the bowl and a spoon to Daryl and turned back towards the center of the room giving him space.

Rick crouched down next to a layout of the Tombs drawn out on the floor with a burned stick. "We need to finalize our plans," he said. He'd been waiting to see if he had one or two to add to his determined army. "We finish packing everything into the vehicle and move it out of the prison." He moved the lantern to one side so that Daryl could see better from where he sat on the stairs.

Daryl shifted his weight. He figured Glenn had drawn the map; he liked that sort of thing.

Rick continued to explain making sure everyone knew the part that they would plan when the Governor came calling. "That's pretty much it. Carl, you have first watch, Hershel second." Those two would be out of the fight and could afford to be a bit tired. "I don't think the Governor will try anything tonight, but that doesn't mean we can relax."

The group began to break apart each going their own way. Daryl had finished his meal to find Carol waiting for the bowl. She hadn't hovered exactly but he'd felt her off to his side the entire time. Leaving the commons area, he went up the stairs to the cell he'd ended up claiming as his own where he leaned his crossbow against the wall. His things were all stuffed into a backpack except for his poncho. Wrapping himself in it, he lay down on his bunk with his back to the door. A slight scuffling noise alerted him to someone's presence; he knew the only one bold enough to come would be Carol. She didn't say a word. She let her presence speak for her as his own had done when Sophia was gone. He was unable to stop tears from falling again. He'd said once that no one would mourn his brother. No one _else._ Daryl had wanted his brother back. A brother who took care of his younger brother and protected him. He mourned the brother he'd never really had. And now never would. Exhaustion sucked him down into darkness.

Carol waited. She had been certain that Daryl would not acknowledge her presence or her support. It wasn't his way. But he'd learned to accept it. Carol was worried. Worried and afraid that Daryl would withdraw again. Become cold. Mean. She hated Merle at that moment. Showing up in Daryl's life and then getting himself killed. How dare he! Destroying the peace that Daryl had found. She dropped her forehead to her knees and listened to Daryl breathe. As a master of silent tears herself, she could tell he was crying. Her heart ached for him. This man who had come into her life and had eased his way past her own walls without even trying. She wasn't even sure when it had started.

At the lake on the farm, she had been surprised to receive an apology from Daryl. She wondered if it was his first one. When he'd told her his reason for being so determined in the search, _"I got nothing else better to do,"_ she had begun to understand him better. The lost look in his eyes and the emptiness in his voice told her much more. He was at a loss within the group. He had no place, no focus. Hunting was his skill, and he wanted to use it to help the group. To help her.

When Daryl's breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep, Carol stood carefully and returned to her own bunk. She allowed her own tears to fall where he couldn't see them.

* * *

_I'd love to hear what you thought about this. I'll update soon as I have my self-imposed deadline. I can't wait to see where they take us next though I'm kind of scared too._


	2. Chapter 2

**No Time to Mourn **

**Chapter Two**

_I mean no copyright infringement against AMC and everyone associated with the show nor Robert Kirkland. This chapter contains "missing" scenes from Season Three's episode "Welcome to the Tombs." Rated T for language._

_Emberka-2012, WhatWhereWhen, and those others who liked chapter one, I hope this story continues to intrigue you. 26 more days!_

* * *

When Daryl woke, he found a basin of water and a rag on the floor by his cell's door. While he'd long since stopped caring about the amount of dirt he sported at any given time, the water felt good on his ravaged eyes. Grabbing his crossbow, he headed towards their common room. He could hear the others talking.

Beth was serving her father and filled another bowl for Daryl that she handed over with a small smile. Daryl kept his eyes on the floor and didn't notice. He took his breakfast over to the stairs and sat down. Hershel had watched the younger man from the moment he entered the room. The self-assurance he'd always seen was no longer there. That he'd chosen to not join them even though there was room at the tables told him much. He'd have to see how he could reach out without pushing Daryl further away.

Conversation eddied around the room. Daryl listened but added nothing. Glenn was watching Daryl too. He knew how much he himself had changed since the whole world went to shit, but he had always been _him_. Daryl had become a different man out from under his brother's shadow. In Woodbury, Daryl's desperation to find Merle, to talk to him, had surprised Glenn given what was happening at the moment. He had been glad that Rick had begged Daryl to put it off and had been surprised that Daryl had agreed. He'd had his suspicions that Daryl had been captured because he had tried to find Merle after covering their escape. Glenn still hated Merle, but he hated more the wounds that Merle's death had caused. This newly-damaged Daryl was disturbing. Daryl had become part of Glenn's family, and his brother was in pain. What would he become? Who would he become?

Carol collected all the bowls and spoons and dumped them into a sack. She'd wash them later if there _was_ a later. Rick said to leave nothing behind. They all moved back to their cells to finish packing their gear; making sure they had everything they wanted to take. Most were silent as they packed up their memories as well and took their gear to the little green car. Hershel looked around his cell and placed his Bible with the marked passage on the table. _And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation._ He had actually found a highlighter in one of the rooms. Leaving the Bible in hopes it would be found, he hobbled out of C-Block.

Daryl went over his collection of arrows and ammo. He double checked that his gun had a full clip. He dropped to the ground to sit cross-legged to fold his poncho. He didn't want to risk having his arms caught in its folds during the fight yet the warm blanket would be needed later. The nights were growing colder. He saw Carol move up behind him and spoke for the first time that morning. "Merle never did nothing like that his whole life."

"He gave us a chance," she said. She believed that there was more that Daryl wasn't telling them, telling her. She'd wait. He had his reasons. She reached out her hand, which he took with a closed fist. She held on a second longer than necessary. Carol wanted Daryl to understand he still had others to live for. She wanted to leave a chink in his wall.

Hershel drove the small, heavily loaded car into the woods where Carl and Beth dragged a tarp over it as camouflage. They would wait here. Beth cradled Judith in her arms, rocking her to keep her quiet. Carl, Hershel, and Beth heard the klaxon begin below and knew that their small group had started to fight back.

* * *

Rick's plan worked. The flash grenades coupled with the klaxon disoriented the Governor and his men. The walkers that they'd let into the area finished the job. The Woodbury people ran. They ran right into Glenn and Maggie in full riot gear up on the walkway with rifles. The Governor and his army were driven away.

Daryl, Michonne, Carol, Rick, Glenn, and Maggie surveyed the empty courtyard. While they'd driven the Governor off, it wasn't finished. They decided to take the fight to Woodbury. Daryl led the way on his bike while Michonne and Rick drove behind in the Silverado. The others had stayed to guard their home.

* * *

The reunion with Andrea was brief and intense.

_"No one can make it alone now." _

_"We never could."_

Kneeling in the dark hallway and waiting for the shot he knew would come; Daryl had to fight to keep control. Only one tear escaped to be surreptitiously dried. He couldn't meet Michonne's eyes when she emerged and handed Rick his gun back. After seeing the world go to hell, Daryl had realized early on that they needed each other to survive, to watch each other's backs, to just be there. That's why he couldn't let Merle go off by himself. He knew Merle needed him. Daryl had wanted his brother to realize that he could depend on his "baby brother." Merle didn't want to see past the past. To see that Daryl was his own man. He couldn't even credit Daryl when he was right. Daryl had brought them back to the prison and his brother to his death. A sooner death than he might have had out in the world and one, it appeared, of his choosing.

Tyrese found a tarp to wrap around Andrea's body, which they placed in the back of the truck and secured with ropes. Tyrese's sister, Sasha, had gathered all the adults in one place so Karen could tell her story of the attack on the prison. In the middle of her story, Rick and the others came into the room.

"We have no argument with you. Our war is not with you. We're going back home to the prison. Anyone who wants to join us is welcome. We'll have a committee to set up rules and work parties; all will have to contribute as they can. Or, you can stay here. Whatever you decide, you need to make a choice soon. We leave at dawn." Rick said before turned away leaving Sasha to handle the questions he could hear pouring out of many mouths. He went to join Daryl at the front gate where he was examining the bus. They could use it to transport whoever wanted to come with them.

Sasha tried to keep her anger at the Woodbury inhabitants at a minimum as she left the building and headed towards the front gate. These people had gone from a protected living situation with many amenities and decent food to learning their family and their protectors had been murdered by their leader who had then taken off. Karen had helped a lot with settling them down. They had known her and trusted her account of the events of the attack. Still, some of the older women's anger at the prison group was inexcusable. Rick's group did not ask to have members kidnapped and tortured. Nor did they ask to have their sanctuary violated and the gates ripped apart. The fact that Rick and his people would take these survivors in was astonishing. Rick had pulled her and Tyrese aside to apologize for kicking them out of the prison in the first place. He explained about losing his wife and that he'd been in a dark place then. Looking into his eyes and seeing the shadows still lurking, she could see that he truly meant his apology. Upon reaching Rick and Daryl, she told them, "They're coming with us."

* * *

Carol, Hershel, Beth, Tyrese, and Sasha were busy getting the newcomers settled into the prison. Rick, Michonne, and Daryl gently took Andrea's body off the truck bed and set it down near the inner fence. Glenn and Maggie followed.

"We'll have to wait to dig a grave until we clear out the walkers from the courtyard," said Rick. They had more guns and ammo than the first time and could take their time. "We'll take the bus down to block the gate for now and start clearing the area."

"Let's do it now," said Daryl. He pointed back at C-Block. "They're going to be busy for hours trying to find a place for everyone. I ain't getting involved with no argument on who has the better cell." He was only half joking. Their group had learned through bitter trials how to get along. Now they had a busload of folk who'd been living all spread out who would have to share tight living quarters. He did not want to deal with them. His memories of Woodbury and its people were bitter.

In the end, it was Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne who were tasked with clearing out the walkers. Rick was called back into the block to help arbitrate some of the arguments that Daryl had foreseen.

Daryl drove the bus down the road and parked it broadside of the front gate. He climbed to the bus' roof and began picking off walkers with a rifle. With all four of them shooting, it took less time to take them out than it would to dispose of them. Using the Silverado, they carted all the bodies off to the far fence where they'd built the previous pyre. They'd have to get more wood. The four conferred and decided that it would be better to go out through the fence with a guard than to move the bus to take the truck out. When they'd gathered enough wood, they lit the fire at dusk. They thought the smoke would be more visible by day than the flames by night.

Reeking of smoke and other scents, the four returned to a different world.

Carol and the others had taken the newcomers into D-Block which Axel and Oscar had cleaned out. The cries of dismay from some of the older women had irritated her. They didn't have to clean out the dead walkers and they found mattresses that had escaped Merle's knife. It was better by far than what they would have found on the road. She delegated some of the younger women to help carry all the gear that was brought by the group. They would have their own common area, but it was clear that the former inmates hadn't gotten that far for cleaning up. The group would have to cook all their meals in C-Block for now.

Things did get tense when they started to assign actual cells. Hershel had the group break into family units. He assigned the second floor cells to those groups that mostly had younger folk who wouldn't mind the stairs as much. He told all that the children could either bunk down on the perch together or within each cell. The children raced upstairs to make a nest of their blankets and pillows on the perch. A few of the women made to call them back when Hershel stopped them.

"They're looking at this like an adventure rather than the hardship we all know it's going to be. Besides, you'll be tripping over them if they're in the rooms with you. We'll help you get things cleaned up elsewhere so you can spread out, but it will take some time."

"Thank you," said one of the women as she passed. She hated the thought of living within prison walls but without that protection, they were vulnerable. At least here they had some heavy walls and gates that could block out the biters.

Lanterns were lit in the common room as several women and teenage boys put together an assembly-line meal. Carol had taken charge from the start and decided that they all needed a good, hot meal to help them sleep this first night in their new lives. Mounds of instant mashed potatoes filled several bowls and several large pots had soup simmering. Cornstarch had been thrown in to thicken the soup. When everything was ready, the young men carried the large pots and bowls over to the other cellblock where the children had stacked bowls and spoons. Carol followed and leaned against the doorway watching. She hadn't realized until now how much she'd missed the sound of children chattering. Sophia, Carl, and the other children back outside of Atlanta had not really had much time to play back at the quarry and then later…. She dragged her thoughts back to the present. These children would soon have to learn how to defend themselves. Maybe she could help. She remembered how it had felt to be unable to fight back and how strong she'd felt once Rick had taught her how to shoot and Daryl had taught her some close knife fighting. Both skills had saved her life at least once.

She returned to her own small group. Rick was seated at the table cradling Judith with one arm while she sucked down formula with a healthy appetite. An empty bowl sat by his elbow. Beth and her father sat with him finishing up their own meals. It looked like the others were still not back. Carol served herself and joined the small group at the table. Carl had chosen to sit off by himself not even watching his baby sister as he once had. It looked like Rick had his work cut out to reconnect with his son. Tyrese and Sasha were at the other table talking softly.

The last of the light had faded before the others returned. Carol pointed towards the pot of water steaming on the stove. Four towels waited for them next to it. They each departed to clean up in their own rooms.

Maggie and Glenn had found clean shirts within their bags. Michonne had only the clothes that she wore; she would have to get new ones soon. The reek rising from them nauseated her. Daryl had on a cleaner shirt, and he was scrubbed clean. He'd come close to puking himself. The scent of burning flesh took him back to when he'd watched his own brother's body burn. Only his tight self-control had kept him from embarrassing himself. The four ate before staggering off followed by the rest of the group. Soon, the block was lit only by the rising moon.

* * *

_Please let me know if you liked it. Will update by Sunday._


	3. Chapter 3

**No Time to Mourn**

**Chapter Three**

_I mean no copyright infringement against AMC and everyone associated with the show nor Robert Kirkland and his comic version. I just wanted to fill in some blanks with my imaginings. Rated T for language. Season Four is creeping up with the speed of a walker. _

* * *

First thing the next morning, Rick pulled Daryl aside to discuss what they would need to get for the larger group to survive. They created lists according to priority and kept adding and removing items from one column to another. Right now, they had to limit their runs until the gate was secure once again. By the time the two men went outside, the sun had been up for several hours. As one, they turned towards where they'd placed Andrea's body. Although the nights were cold, they still needed to bury her soon.

Looking down into the grassy area, they noticed that Glenn and Maggie were digging and headed that way. There were two new graves. The young couple stopped digging as the two approached. They had talked while they dug about how they were going to present their idea to Daryl.

"Why two?" asked Rick.

Glenn looked up at Daryl. "We didn't know, but we thought you might want to bring Merle back. He's _your_ blood but you're our family. We thought…"

Glenn couldn't finish so Maggie picked up the thread. "We thought we could bring him here, home."

Daryl was taken aback. They had not done this out of respect for Merle. They both hated his brother. They had done this for _him_. He'd claimed the group as family to Rick but that they felt that way about him as well, warmed a cold spot deep inside. He nodded his head and looked each of them in the eye. He wasn't much for talking and especially avoided emotional conversations. But they had touched him. They had been tortured by Merle but they cared about Daryl. This was their apology for not accepting Merle into the group.

"I'll go get him, bring him back," he said softly.

"We'll help."

"Nah, you've got a lot to do. I'll take the truck, maybe stop off and get some more things from Woodbury. We had to leave a lot of stuff behind yesterday." Daryl did not want anyone to go with him. He needed to do this final thing by himself.

"Are you sure?" asked Rick. He didn't like the thought of Daryl being out there without anyone to watch his back.

Remembering all the walkers he'd seen in the area, he changed his mind. "I'll take Michonne, then. If she wants to go." She had been the last to talk to Merle and had kept her own counsel. She didn't seem like she would want to chat him up. He took a breath; he needed to say this now. "Rick, I don't blame you for Merle. Nobody could make Merle do anything that he didn't want to do." He said the words in a rush, but his honesty came through. He really did believe this. And that mattered.

Rick nodded his head slightly and reached out to grasp Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl had to force himself to stand still. Rick's gesture echoed his own reaching out to his brother in the boiler room, which had been rebuffed. He had this new family now. These brothers and sisters in arms were the only chance of a family he had. He backed away and went up the hill and into the cellblock to see if Michonne would go with him.

Soon, the two headed out. They went to Woodbury first. Michonne showed him where supplies had been stored. Neither one wanted to go into people's houses right now. Not on this trip. Satisfied that they had found what they could in the time they'd given themselves, they headed towards the barn where Merle had gone. It was a shorter trip than she'd anticipated. She kept a sharp eye out for any other vehicles. The Governor and his men were still out there. She had to finish the Governor as she'd promised Andrea.

Daryl parked the truck and grabbed his crossbow and loaded it with an arrow.

"I'll stay here," Michonne said as she got out of the truck, "until you want my help." She understood that Daryl needed some time. She could watch his back from a distance. Scanning the wooded area, she listened intently for any sounds - walker or human. She climbed into the bed of the truck to help her see farther but then got down. A long-distance rifle could take her out before she spotted the shooter.

Daryl stared down at his brother's charred corpse. Time stopped. Memories replaced sight. Merle had always bullied him, had always demanded that Daryl do what_ he_ wanted him to do. As a teenager and then adult, Daryl had never stopped to think about what he was doing when Merle directed him. Without Merle, however, he'd become someone else; someone that he realized he had always wanted to be. When Merle returned, Daryl followed him in hopes he could change his brother. Now, they'd never have the chance to see if that was possible.

A tarp fell onto the ground as Michonne joined Daryl. "We need to go now," was all she said.

Daryl rolled Merle's body onto the tarp, folded it around him, and tied it closed. Together, the two lifted it into the truck bed. Covered in ash and soot, Daryl slid behind the wheel and took his brother home. Michonne waited to see if Daryl would speak; he didn't seem to need to fill silence with talk like his brother. He just gripped the wheel tightly and drove. She thought back to when she'd accompanied Andrea's body back to the prison. She'd stayed in her own thoughts and Rick had honored that. She would do the same for Daryl.

* * *

Rick thought he'd timed it pretty well. It had taken about 40 minutes to get to the barn where he'd met with the Governor. He figured it would take them about three hours before they returned. The small group had taken Andrea's body down to their graveyard and had barely placed her in her grave when they spotted the dust from the truck. Tyrese had stayed by the bus to move it and soon the truck came to a stop near the somber group.

Silently, Rick offered to help Daryl move Merle's body. Daryl wanted to do it alone, but his brother had been a big man. He accepted the offer. Soon the bodies were covered with earth and crosses placed at the heads of each.

Rick spoke briefly about Andrea and how she wanted to make a difference. That difference was in the group now living in the prison. He reaffirmed the decision that they would do this as a group. That no one person would make the decisions that would affect many people's lives.

When it was his turn, Daryl was even more succinct. "Merle made a lot of mistakes. I believe he wanted to make up for some of them. We never had a chance." He felt something touch his wrist and looked down. Carol placed a Cherokee Rose into his hand.

"This one bloomed for him," she said. She'd spent the whole morning searching for one. She'd found it across the small bridge over the creek outside the fence. Maggie had helped without understanding Carol's need.

Daryl crouched and placed it at the base of the cross of Merle's grave. The group began to move away leaving Daryl behind. They knew he'd join them when he was ready.

* * *

"Hey!"

Rick turned around at the hoarse sound of Daryl's voice. He'd been stacking flats against the fence. The Governor would come back some time, and they needed to be ready.

"I'm going on a run." Daryl shifted his stance. He didn't think Rick would like this idea, but he felt he had to go.

"For what? We've got enough food for at least a week for everyone. Why now?" Rick didn't want to point out that Daryl hadn't really given himself a break since he'd buried Merle two days prior. Looking at his friend more closely, Rick noticed the shadows under his eyes. He didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep in the past four days. All of them had become thinner over the past eight months, but Daryl's features were looking sharp.

"I wanna go look for a welder so we can fix that gate. I found one in the prison's shop but it don't work."

"Do we even have anyone who knows how to use one?"

"I do. Learned on the job. Anyways, we really need to make that gate a top priority to keep out walkers and anyone else. That bus is damned inconvenient blocking our way in and out. So I figured I'd go looking in the towns to the north of here. There's gotta be some garages or auto repair places that would have one."

"Even if you found one, how'd you get it back on your bike?"

"I've got an idea." Daryl paused. Rick really wouldn't like the next part. "I'm gonna to have to be gone longer than just one day. I gotta find it and all the parts and then get it all back here."

Rick was already shaking his head. "No. I need you here. Besides, the Governor is still out there. It's not just walkers you have to keep an eye out for."

"I know that. But there's too few of us to do everything that needs to be done. I know what the equipment needed is, the tank, the nozzles, and all that shit. I can't explain it enough to let someone else go. It's gotta be me. Ain't nobody else can do it. Rick," Daryl waited until Rick met his eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"I know. I said this was a democracy now. I'm not running things like I did. You don't need my permission."

"You're still part of command staff. You just can't do any dumb shit without us calling you out."

That got a smile from Rick. Trust Daryl to be so blunt. "Alright. I'll tell whoever's on guard duty to keep an eye out for you."

Daryl grunted an affirmative and turned away. Even though Rick claimed to not be in charge, everyone inside the prison believed he was. That put a heavy burden on him that Daryl wanted to help lighten. Fixing the gate would be one way. He entered C-Block to find Carol.

Pausing at the top of the short flight of stairs, he watched as Carol directed three women from Woodbury in separating the food that they'd retrieved from the cafeteria. It had been decided that the Woodbury folk would spread out amongst the different cellblocks to allow families and neighbors the chance to stay together. It would just take time to clear them out. Rick's group kept C-Block for themselves. Carol, Hershel, and Beth had worked hard to get them all settled and relatively comfortable in their temporary quarters.

Daryl watched for a moment. Carol had come into her own. She was a survivor. Daryl'd known her only slightly back at the quarry in Atlanta. Her husband Ed had made it very clear that she was to keep to herself. When she sunk that pickax again and again into her dead husband's skull, Daryl had recognized the rage she'd shown. He'd seen the bruises on her arms, they all had. He knew what she had lived with. He understood that rage. Rage at the past and at the new world they'd been thrown into.

Carol wanted to wash her hands of these three. They were the worst complainers. The prison was too dark, too cold, too dirty. Well, then they should just take their asses back to Woodbury and leave the rest of them in peace. Heaving a sigh, she started to point out the need for rationing once again when they stopped talking and looked over her shoulder. Turning slightly, she saw Daryl coming down the stairs. She smiled a welcome.

"I'm going on a run. Anything you really need? Or Asskicker needs?" He reached into the playpen and tickled Judith before picking her up to settle into the crook of his arm, and smiled at the baby.

Daryl had only recently started to smile during casual conversation but now, after Merle, only Judith could get one from him. Carol didn't like the changes in him since Merle had died. He'd gotten hard again, and she hated it.

"Put that baby down, you'll get her dirty," said Ana. She was the ringleader of the three. "You have no cause to be picking her up!"

Daryl froze. He'd ignored the women at first, focusing on Carol and Judith. He recognized these three. They had been among the loudest calling for his death at the arena. He could almost feel the hatred still rolling off of them. Carefully, he placed Judith back into her crib and faced Carol while ignoring the others. "You got a list? I ain't got all day."

Carol ignored his tone. She knew he was furious with the others and not her. "We can always use more diapers and some little shirts or onesies if you can find them. We need to keep her warm."

Daryl nodded and said, "I'll be back," he promised. He knew that while she'd understood why he'd chosen to go with Merle, she had still been hurt by his decision. "Rick knows where I'm going." He refused to go into detail in front of these women. He went into their own living section to get his quiver, backpack, and poncho. It would be cold at night, and the latter would double as a blanket.

When Daryl had left the cellblock, Carol turned on the others. "What the hell was that all about? You have no right to criticize him!" _How dare they!_

"He and his brother. They're why we lost everything. If Merle hadn't kidnapped your people or his brother come into our town shooting up things and killing innocent people, things would still be fine. We'd have lights. And heat. A nice place to live." The last came out as a wail. Mary hated the prison knowing that walkers could get in through the Tombs. She jumped every time she heard a sound. Her husband had gone off with the Governor and died. The Governor would never have taken their strong men to the prison if this group hadn't invaded their town.

Carol gaped at the women. But before she could speak up, another voice broke in. "Daryl was caught up like the rest of us. You can't condemn him for his brother's actions. The Governor, he was killing people, taking their heads, long before any of us showed up." Michonne rose out of the shadows where'd she'd been sitting. People seemed to forget she was around after a time if she was still. She'd learned a lot about these Woodbury people from listening and observing.

Grabbing the bit in her teeth, Mary continued. "If Merle had just done what he was supposed to, what he'd been ordered to do, then your people would have never found us! I bet that Daryl is just like his brother. Mean. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and they both have the same roots." She'd had her own encounter with Merle when he'd first wandered around Woodbury. He'd tried to demand a kiss as thanks for helping to carry a heavy load. He'd not taken no for an answer until Martinez had stepped in. The Governor had rules that he enforced for everyone in the town. It had taken a while, but Merle had seemed to follow them.

Carol picked up Judith partially to calm herself down but also to keep herself from punching Mary. These people had lived safe behind walls while her group had been hard-pressed on the road and dying here in the prison. That they judged Daryl because of his brother incensed her. He'd almost been killed on the Governor's orders. And he wouldn't have been there if Maggie and Glenn hadn't been in danger. Maggie had told her about what she'd seen when they'd gone to rescue Daryl. Merle had pummeled his brother before dragging him upright to fight back against those who'd pitted them against each other.

"Daryl saved Judith. Things were chaotic when she was born and he went out, risked his life, to get her formula. He risks his life every time he goes out. He is _not _like Merle!" Carol wasn't sure how much Merle had changed since she'd known him in the quarry. She had thought Daryl and the others could get through to him. Hershel had seen something inside the older Dixon. She had relied on threats when Merle came to the prison. Neither Dixon had been very social at the quarry and preferred to keep to himself. She had always known that Daryl was Merle's one weakness. Merle had been a man who hid weaknesses with drugs and violence. She had seen Daryl with a bloodied lip or black eye more than once outside of Atlanta. They'd heard Merle's rants and rages and, at the time, been grateful that it was Daryl who'd been the only one around him. Any time she'd seen Daryl with his brother, the younger man had always deferred and been cowed. When he was by himself, he was still angry all the time and defensive, yet he shared his kills with the camp so that all could have something to eat.

"You're wasting your time with these sheep," said Michonne. Turning her back on the group in disdain, she went to look for Hershel. He needed to know about this. If these three felt that way about Daryl, there might be others too. Things could get ugly really fast. She knew all too well about lynch mobs. Hershel could test the mood of that group. The Woodbury people talked to him. He did not seem a threat with his missing foot. They didn't know the steel within Hershel, and the determination that he had to keep their group together and alive.

Back in the sunlight, Daryl tried to shake off the anger at those bitches. It was hard, though. A part of him knew that Merle had brought their group to the Governor's attention and brought everything to a head. If only Merle had done as Glenn had said, waited until they returned with Daryl to that little town. Then this whole mess…. He stopped. He'd learned as a child that no amount of wishing could change the past. If they could, his brother would still be with them.

Starting up his brother's chopped Triumph Bonneville 650, he noticed that he'd have to gas up soon. He nodded to Carl who opened the gate to allow him to pass down the hill toward the bus which Sasha moved, and then headed off down the road.

At one of the traffic jams he encountered, Daryl stopped the bike next to the first small pickup he found. It had gas but would the battery still have juice? It did. The engine ground as it turned over but it started. Backing and filling the truck to get around the jam, Daryl left his bike and drove on towards Newnan.

Daryl passed the city limits of Newnan as he rode up GA-34. He was looking for a body shop on Bullsburo Drive. The owner had been a drinking buddy of Merle's during bike rides and Daryl was pretty sure he'd find everything he'd need there. He kept his eyes out for fresh tire tracks on the dusty road. The Governor might have come through here and if so, Daryl was going to try to track him. _That_ he had not shared with Rick. That was because he hadn't really figured it out yet. A line from Indiana Jones flashed through his head. _I'm making this up as I go._

Spotting the shop, Daryl pulled in. Taking his crossbow off the front seat, he scouted as he moved his way across the parking lot and into the shop itself. There were only four walkers. He took them down and retrieved his arrows.

Entering the shop, Daryl spotted a welder that had its own generator. He tested all the connections before starting the generator. It roared to life; that was bound to attract notice. There was a pop as he lit the welder. This one worked. He found a dolly to cart the things out to the truck. No walkers in sight yet. He heaved the welder and then the generator into the back of the truck before going back for the rest of the supplies. They had been missing from the prison shop; he guessed someone had tried to weld doors shut somewhere. He grabbed the electrode holder with lead, ground clamp, electrodes, helmet with faceplate and gloves. He ignored the chipping hammer and wire brush. Who cared if the gate was pretty and neat or not?

The sun was beginning to set as Daryl finished loading up the truck. He headed out of Newnan and got back on GA-34 heading east. When he reached an open stretch of highway, he parked the truck. Locking both doors, he settled down for the night. If he did have a herd come through, he had given himself space to pick up speed to escape. He rolled himself into the poncho and settled down for a restless night. Cold seeped into the truck. Daryl dozed.

Morning found Daryl up and moving. He had said he was going to Woodbury, but he thought he'd try ransacking stores instead. He didn't want to give those women any chance to claim looting.

There was a Walmart where GA-34 met 54 which was his turnoff toward the prison. It would be dark and there was bound to be walkers in there but he could grab most of what Carol put on his list pretty quickly.

* * *

_I hope you liked this chapter. Please let me know what you thought if you have the time. More soon._


	4. Chapter 4

**No Time to Mourn**

**Chapter Four**

_This is my first fanfiction in the world of The Walking Dead. I mean no copyright infringement against AMC and everyone associated with the show or Robert Kirkland. I used the Comic Con Season 4 trailer to get ideas for this chapter. Rated for language._

* * *

"You would think the Woodbury people would be settled in by now," grumbled Beth to herself. She'd just had to deal with Ana and her cronies and was still out of sorts. Those women kept trying to take over the common room, take over Judith's care, take over everything. From what she'd heard, she knew the Governor would never have put up with that sort of behavior. She decided to talk to her father. She found him in his little room reading his Bible.

"Daddy? You busy?" she asked.

"Not really, Bethie, what's on your mind?" He placed a worn ribbon in the Bible to mark his place and turned towards his daughter.

"I don't know how to talk to those….those cats." It was not the word she wanted to use but it would do. "They want to take over. They don't like what we've put in place. They're really pushy and rude. They need to be made to stop."

Hershel looked down and pursed his lips. Michonne had already told him about their anger towards Daryl. He'd been trying to figure out a way to diffuse it, but hadn't come up with anything yet. Now Beth was having issues with them. He agreed with his youngest. Something needed to be done and quickly before they lost control. Using the bunk bed's railing, he pulled himself to a standing position and hobbled into the walkway on his crutches.

Beth went down the stairs ahead of her father; he was still a bit wobbly on them. Once they cleared out more cell blocks, they could all spread out again and Hershel could move back downstairs. Rick was using the downstairs cells to store their weapons, ammo, and food. Together, the two headed outside.

Squinting as he exited into the wan sunlight, Hershel looked around. Daryl and Glenn were down by the main gate. Sparks indicated that Daryl was working on repairs to the hinges. They'd talked about finding solid metal plates to build a heavier gate but right now, a working gate was top priority. "Have you seen your father?" he asked Carl who was carrying trash over to a growing pile situated towards the back of the yard.

"He's over there." Carl's lip was jutting out in a sullen expression. Rick was keeping his son on a tight leash. No guard duty for a while until they'd worked things through.

Shaking his head at Carl's truculence, Hershel went as directed and found Rick and Tyrese carrying one of the heavy file cabinets that littered the yard over to the Silverado. Together, they lifted it up so that Sasha and Maggie could pull it across the truckbed towards the cab. They were taking the debris and trying to block the area where the prison's wall had fallen down. They couldn't rebuild the wall, but they could make it more difficult for walkers to get into the Tombs. Also, the younger children would want to play games; they couldn't be kept inside all the time. The courtyard needed to be cleaned of the many piles of trash and debris since it was to be their home. Most of the remnants of the bombed tower were gone.

Hershel had brought up the idea of gardens for food when their population exploded. Winter had begun to grip the area; the nights were below freezing now, but they could prepare the land. He'd given explicit directions to that work group. Some of them were down on the grassy area digging up the soil. Scrap lumber was off to one side. Hershel had thought if they could find a sow and boar, they could raise pigs and maybe even some chickens.

"Do you have a moment?" asked Hershel after the men released the cabinet into the truck bed.

"What's on your mind?" said Rick. He stretched his arms above his head and leaned back; his back was not used to this type of labor.

"We need to put that council we were talking about in place now. Conflicts are starting, and we need to have rules in place for dissenters."

"I told you, I don't want to serve right now. I'll handle troublemakers, do my job as sheriff, but I need to focus on Carl and on Judith."

"I can respect that. However, you need to bring this up to everyone. You can bring them all together. They will listen to you."

"Tonight then," agreed Rick before turning to help Tyrese move another cabinet. As he helped carry more items across the cement, he tried to figure out how to get the message to everyone. He thought Carol could help. She had daily contact with the most people and could come up with a plan to let everyone know about the meeting. When they went in for lunch, he'd ask her.

* * *

Carol suggested using the children as runners. They could take simple messages back to their family units. The older children would also deliver the message to those families without children or ones with children who were too young to join her little group.

She waited until all the children she'd sent out had returned to report success of delivery. She didn't want any of the Woodbury people complaining that things were being done behind their back.

The children's next task was to collect wood and build a bonfire. They would have a communal dinner before Rick talked to them all. She hoped they could relax for the evening and wavered between whether or not to serve alcohol before finally deciding against it. Some might over-indulge and become belligerent. They needed cool heads right now. Some of the older inhabitants had brought some homemade alcohol with them on the bus. Rick had added it to the inventory which had upset some people, but he was the man in charge at that time. She looked down at her little crew. The older children were busy peeling carrots and potatoes. A few cans of chicken would be added later. Getting them familiar with handling a knife was important. She'd teach them knife safety. It would probably take a while before they were ready for defense and better teachers. She would make certain that none of them would be a victim like she'd once been. Her adult helpers were busy fetching water and starting up pots of broth. Soup was on the menu a lot but it was warm, and she'd found onions and herbs to make it a bit tastier. Tapping her fingers against her thigh, Carol wondered what else to have for dinner.

"I can make torillas if you want," said Pat. She come up behind Carol. Pat was one of the older women who was very grateful to be there. Carol gauged her to be about 70 years old.

"Do we have what you need?" Carol asked.

"It's the only bread I know how to make that doesn't need yeast. I just need flour, baking powder, salt, and lard. I know we've got all that."

"Do you want any help? I'd like to learn how to make them if you don't mind," said Carol.

"Not at all."

Soon, the two women were sharing stories about cooking mishaps ignoring the fact that they were in a prison surrounded by death.

* * *

Rick waited until people had collected their full bowls and tortillas and told them they were meeting out in the courtyard.

"It's cold," complained one.

"It's the only place big enough where we can all talk," said Rick as he took his bowl outside. Judith was in a sling against his chest well-wrapped against the cold evening air. When he reached the stacked wood, Daryl stuck his torch into the oil-soaked pile and ignited it. He'd come out earlier to build the fire and make sure the wind would not be too much and drive the sparks into the nearby woods. Backing away, he let Rick take center stage. He backed into the building's shadow and kept watch. But keen eyes still found him. Carol, finished serving the others, came up with two meals, one for Daryl and for herself. Standing beside him, she began to eat. Daryl was surprised at how her presence now seemed natural to him.

"We need to make plans for the future," stated Rick.

"What do you mean," shouted someone. "We're here aren't we?"

"I mean about how decisions for the group will be made. I'm no Governor and I know none of my group want to be completely in charge." He scanned the faces around him. "I propose that we chose a group of people for a committee to make such decisions."

"Who do you want on this committee?" asked Ana.

"We're going to start off with our people but," his voice rose, "those of you from Woodbury need to choose your representatives." He waited for the group to quiet again. "I suggest these people: Hershel because of his knowledge of farming and medicine, Carol because she's been organizing the food stores, Glenn because he can plan our defenses and make guard rosters, Sasha as a intermediary between the two groups since she knows both, and Daryl for his skill at hunting and supply runs." Rick sat back and watched the large group as side conversations broke out. He'd chosen carefully from among his people. He didn't think the council membership would last this way for long, but at least they could set things in motion.

Daryl approached Rick. "I don't think that's a good idea picking me," he said. "A lot of those people hate me."

"Maybe, but they cannot deny you know what you're doing. Michonne is the only other hunter and we both know she's spending her time hunting for the Governor."

"I know but…" Daryl stopped speaking. If he was truthful with himself, he really wanted to help the group this way. He found he liked being depended on; he just did not see himself as a leader. If Rick truly stepped down, someone else besides Daryl would have to take his place. He was content being second. He'd step up as needed but preferred being off to the side. "It's just those bitches, they…" Daryl broke off as those "bitches" came up to the two of them.

"You can't trust this murderer!" Ana said as she got in Rick's face. "He'll stab us all in the back."

Daryl stepped back at the same time Carol stepped up beside him. Hershel had reached their group by then. He'd seen Rick and Daryl talking and wanted to add his words to convince the hunter to serve the community. He thought that if the Woodbury folk saw how helpful he could be, they would relent.

Hershel put his hand on Ana's shoulder. "Let's talk about this rationally. I've known Daryl for a good long while and have never seen him act maliciously. In fact, the first time I ever really talked to him, he'd been badly hurt searching by himself in the woods for a lost little girl."

"He was?" That surprised Ana into silence. Merle would never have endangered himself for a child. He'd only acted to help others when he received a direct order. "Did he find her?"

"No," said Carol. "We didn't find my daughter in time."

Ana really looked at Carol for the first time. She had realized that the other woman was shadowed by some loss, but they all had lost someone they cared about. Losing a daughter was something they had in common.

Daryl shifted his weight from foot to foot and his eyes became unfocused as he looked into the fire. That failure was still a bitter wound. He'd so wanted to show to the group that he could do something right. His faith in himself had needed that success. He'd lost Merle in Atlanta. He'd lost Sophia in the woods. Then he lost Merle again. He was so tired of losing people. Too slow to track either one down in time. The weight of his failures and the weight of what the world had become was something he struggled against every day. So far, he'd won against despair. But it hadn't been easy.

Carol watched Daryl. The look on his face disturbed her. She had let out her anger at Sophia's loss on the Cherokee Rose Daryl had identified as Sophia's. She'd ended up hurting herself. Daryl wouldn't attack a plant; he'd put his grief into an attack against walkers since he couldn't find the Governor. If they did manage to find him, it would be a toss-up on who would take him out: Daryl or Michonne. Both wanted revenge. Carol prayed that Daryl could heal what had been broken by Merle's death. She'd seen him go down to his brother's grave a few times in the late evening or early morning hours. She was glad that Glenn and Maggie had thought to offer that solace to Daryl. She focused back on what Hershel was saying.

"Give this committee a chance," said Hershel. "_All_ of them. I've placed my life in each of their hands, and I still have it. I'd trust my daughters with each of these people as well."

The Woodbury women had seen the closeness between Hershel and his daughters and knew he did not place his faith lightly.

Rick saw that Hershel had this group in hand and started walking around listening to other conversations. He cradled his daughter's head in his hand and crooned to her as he walked. Little pockets of conversation were happening all around the courtyard but no one seemed really upset. He spotted Maggie and Glenn talking to one group of younger people while Sasha and Tyrese were talking to the young men who hadn't gone with the Governor when he had come to the prison. There was one group that kept itself apart. Their leader, a young man named Daniel, stepped forward as Rick approached.

"When do we get to choose our people?" he asked. "You going to make us wait a long while?"

"Not at all. When your entire group choses some representatives, we'll add them to the council."

Dan had to be satisfied with that. He didn't like the whole situation but he hadn't been able to get enough support to overthrow the prison group. He'd have to wait to see if they were fair. If they weren't, then he could get some people to turn on them. He'd been used to getting the good things; he'd worked with Milton a lot and had had a lot of those perks. During the group's rescue of Daryl, he'd broken his arm falling off the wall. That had kept him from going with the Governor and to his own death.

The fire was dying down as Rick came closer to it. "Can we have a vote to see if the committee stands as is?" he called out. A chorus of agreement made him ask formally, "All for the committee as it stands for right now say 'Aye'."

The courtyard echoed with the sound.

"All opposed?"

Some looked down at the ground. They were not happy but didn't want to stand out as being against the group.

Accepting the group's vote, Rick said, "The committee stands as proposed but five more will be added from the Woodbury group as they are chosen." He turned and headed inside. Judith did not need the night air.

Soon the courtyard was empty; the only ones left were Daryl, Carol, Glenn, and Maggie. Daryl watched to see that the bonfire burned down. Using a metal pole, he poked and prodded the remaining wood to help it die faster.

"I didn't see that coming," said Glenn.

"You'll do fine," said Maggie.

"That's not what I'm worried about. I didn't think Rick and Hershel thought I could do this."

"What happened when Rick was…not in charge had nothing to do with ability. It was your acting without planning. When you take your time, you see things that none of us think of."

"Yeah, kid. Remember when we were trying to get those guns?" added Daryl.

"And that worked out real well didn't it." Glenn shook his head.

"Plan was fine. You just didn't anticipate other people being there. Walkers you'ld planned for. Now you understand that there are other people out there, like Miguel, like my brother, who will do anything to get what they want. You plan."

Glenn looked at the older man. He realized that Daryl supported him; that meant a lot. In the time they'd known each other, Glenn had seen how Daryl had gone from being angry at everyone to being angry just at the world that had gone to shit for all of them. He hadn't even gone off on Ana and her friends like he once would have.

"Come on," said Maggie as she hooked her arm around Glenn's. "It's bedtime."

"Who's got watch?" Glenn asked.

"Those two brothers, Luis and Ritchie. They're up on the tower," said Daryl as he pointed towards them.

He walked beside Carol towards the cell block. The wind ruffled his hair. Nights were definitely getting colder. He shivered.

* * *

_I hope you liked this chapter. If you did, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it._


	5. Chapter 5

**No Time to Mourn - Chapter Five**

_I mean no copyright infringement since I do not own the characters nor the setting. I wanted to finish this chapter before the season four premier tomorrow night. I cannot wait to see what really happens next. Definitely Caryl in this chapter._

* * *

"Daryl, when are you going on a supply run again?" Carol leaned against the door to his cell. It was late, and she was surprised he was still awake. The flickering light had drawn her over. She held an elbow in each palm hugging herself.

Looking up from where he was packing his fletching equipment, he asked "Why? I thought we got enough from Woodbury to last another week."

"You did but I could use another blanket or two. It's really cold." That was an understatement. She could see her breath. The prison had radiators spread out along the walls but with no electricity or gas, they were as cold as the exterior wall.

Daryl squinted in confusion as he thought. They'd all had bedding when they were on the road. How had Carol lost most of hers? "What…"

"I gave most of my blankets to the children," she admitted. Used to living within insulated walls, the Woodbury folk had not brought enough blankets to combat the cold.

He shook his head. Of course she did. Why was he not surprised? "I don't have a spare blanket." In fact, he didn't have a blanket at all. He was down to using his poncho. "Judith," was all he said.

Carol smiled. That baby still melted his reserve.

Nodding his head slightly as he thought, Daryl came to a conclusion. "You haven't been in your room all day have you?" At her confirmation, he said, "The lantern has warmed up this room. Go get your pillow and blanket and come back." He was still choosing between options when she returned. When he turned off the lantern, there would be some residual heat but it would dissipate before dawn. The room would be as cold as hers then. He squished his pillow over next to the wall and took hers from her unresisting hand and placed it also on the bunk. Taking his poncho off the top bunk, he wrapped it around his torso and sat down on his bunk before lying down and scooting back against the wall and lying on his left side. "Wrap yourself up in your blanket and come here." He lifted the edge of the poncho so she could move closer to him. "Oldest trick in the book—body heat." He waited as Carol settled down and then dropped the edge of the poncho over them both. Dithering about how to settle down, he rested his right arm along his body.

Carol slid her arm under her pillow. She told herself that Daryl was not making a move. He was only offering her a warm place to sleep and nothing else. She had realized months ago that any flirting or other moves would have to come from her. Outside Atlanta, he'd have told her to go to hell if she had complained about being cold. Six months ago, he would have given up his poncho and been cold himself rather than share it. He didn't let people get that close. At least he hadn't. She kept telling herself not to hope, but she could not stop the smile that came from within.

"Stop smiling," he groused.

"How…?" Carol stopped herself. She'd just admitted that she had been smiling.

His only response was a snort. He remembered her flirting when he was trying to ease her shoulder strain. The thing was he did care about her. He just didn't know what to do with his feelings. How to act. How to be like other people. They had both lived in and survived households where violence was commonplace. It was part of what made it impossible for him to even think about anything other than friendship. He had to learn that first. Then maybe he could think about her as something more than a friend.

Daryl found it hard to relax. He almost regretted making the offer but he'd been cold too. He listened as the sound of her breathing slowed as she drifted into sleep. He hoped he wouldn't talk in his sleep. He'd had nightmares almost every night about finding Merle as a walker and having to kill him. It took longer than it normally did, but Daryl finally fell asleep.

* * *

Judith was wailing as Beth came up the stairs. She jostled the infant in an effort to soothe her. Beth had already changed her and fed her but nothing calmed the baby down. Carol would know what to do. But Carol wasn't in her room. Beth continued on the second floor walkway and peeked into each cell. Then she spotted her. In Daryl's room. A wide grin broke out over her face. It was about damn time. She tried to back off and not wake them but Judith had other plans.

Carol started awake. For a second, she thought she was back at home and it was Sophia who was crying. A warm body behind her reinforced that mistake and an arm lay across her. Daryl had relaxed in his sleep, as he never did while awake. The filthy cell walls brought her back to the present. Still clutching her blanket, she eased away from Daryl hoping he could stay asleep. She wasn't that lucky. He was a very light sleeper. She tucked the poncho around him.

"It's Judith, I'll just go see what needs to be done. Go back to sleep."

Gauging the time of day by the illumination in the building, he determined that he could sleep another half hour and closed his eyes.

Moving slowly into the hallway, Carol took the blanket off her shoulders and draped it over one arm. Beth blinked, disappointed. Carol was completely clothed and even wearing her jacket. Beth was surprised at how sad she was at that revelation. They were so right for each other. She was hoping that both would find some bit of happiness together like her sister and Glenn had.

"What's wrong?" asked Carol as they descended the stairs and headed into the common room.

"I can't get Judith to stop crying. I've done everything but she still...she won't…I don't know what to do!"

Carol lifted the infant out of Beth's arms and cradled her so she could examine her more easily. She felt her skin and found no fever. Judith was wailing her head off by now. "How long has she been crying?"

"She's been crying since before dawn." Beth was at her wit's end. She had done everything they had told her to and Judith was still crying.

"Relax," said Carol. "I think she just has a bout of colic. Remember what I told you about Sophia? If there is no fever, we can almost bet that's what it is. She's too young to start teething. Is your father awake yet?"

"Teething?" You mean we have more of this to look forward to?" Beth was beginning to panic.

"You said you wanted a child. It's never easy. But there are rewards." Carol's voice petered out. There was not a day that went by that she did not think of her Sophia.

Beth wished Carol would lose that lost look in her eyes. The only times it lessened was when she was taking care of Judith and when she was around Daryl.

"Let's go heat up some water for tea and start getting breakfast ready," said Carol and led the way downstairs.

Daryl had only been able to doze since Carol had left. His thoughts were racing around and wouldn't leave him be. He felt more rested than he had been in a while. He realized that he didn't remember dreaming about Merle. Sitting up on his bunk, Daryl scrubbed his face with a hand before running it through his hair. Carol had teased him about how far he'd come since Atlanta but she was right. Before the world had crashed down on them all, he'd been attempting to be a carbon copy of his big brother. Away from Merle, he'd become someone he was proud to be. The way Merle had continually called him "little brother" and "baby brother" after they found each other had showed that he would never see Daryl as he had become. Refusing to acknowledge that Daryl was right about the direction they were traveling in and the river's name had shown Daryl that he could not change Merle. Merle had to always be in charge. He had to control his brother's thoughts and actions. Merle had not chosen to adapt or change in the months that they had been separated. Daryl smiled slightly as he remembered Carol actually threatening to cut Merle's throat if he messed with Daryl. She'd come a long way too since Atlanta.

He stood up. Another day. Hershel had suggested that the council meet during breakfast every day to plan and go over any issues that had arisen the day before. The Woodbury people still had not gotten their act together enough to nominate people so it was still just those Rick had chosen on the council.

Descending into the common room, Daryl collected his breakfast and headed out towards the freezing yard. Steam rose from his mug and bowl. They really needed to find another place to eat inside. Luckily, they were all used to rising early and had the yard mostly to themselves. Hershel had insisted on transparency and welcomed others to listen in. He felt that when the Woodbury people understood how they worked, they would volunteer. Daryl hoped some would volunteer soon. He was still uncomfortable being in the spotlight. Ana had backed off a bit, but he still did not trust her. While she had stopped attacking him verbally, she always glared in his direction. She didn't have many followers but she had a few. He felt he had to watch his back from more than the walkers.

He sat down and started to eat as Hershel opened the meeting. He watched as the sun cleared the fence, illuminating the crosses in the graveyard below. Merle's grave was where Carol's marker had been placed when they thought she was dead. The hole inside threatened to swallow him but the voices of his friends pulled him back. He faced the living and joined them.

* * *

Daryl walked around the tower's perimeter slowly. The setting sun was no longer in his eyes. It was times like this when he was stuck in his own head that things were the worst. As a hunter, he'd been able to divide his consciousness into two parts. One would focus on the trail while the other kept track of what was going on around him. That skill had kept him out of his dad's reach sometimes. He felt his shoulders tighten as he remembered the pain from his father's belt.

He shook his head. "Stop it!" he told himself. He thought about what Hershel had suggested as their next course of action. They would build pens and Daryl was supposed to keep a lookout for pigs or goats. Those were small enough that they could get them back to the prison. A cow would not be so easy. He called up the regional map in his head to remember what direction the nearest farms were at. If he could find a big farm, chances were the animals, although feral by now, would be nearby if they still lived. He tried to think of whom to take with him. While Daryl wanted to go off on his own, Hershel was adamant that they all travel with a partner, preferably a Woodbury person. They would learn faster by doing and maybe begin to trust faster too.

Once he had his plan in mind, Daryl's thoughts drifted again. This time to the farm. _He'd set up his tent and moved the bike near the ruined farmstead on the edge of the clearing. Near sundown, he kindled a fire. He was so angry with Carol. Why hadn't she cried? Why had she refused to go to her girl's funeral? _

_He remembered his mother's funeral. They'd let Merle out of juvie for it and both boys were wearing borrowed suits that did not fit them. Their father was behind them with a strong hand clenched on each boy's shoulder. Daryl remembered that the bruises took over a week to fade because they were so deep. That night, Merle stayed at home. The police would pick him up in the morning to return to serve out his time. His brother had gotten high as a kite. He'd had a stash of weed somewhere and crawled out onto the porch roof to smoke. Daryl had refused. He'd tried it once and hated that disjointed feeling. He never felt what Merle claimed to feel. Daryl lay in his bed, hearing Merle complaining softly outside about everything. Their dad was passed out on the couch; he'd finished off a bottle of Bushmills. _

_Daryl held the bag of Merle's drugs in his hand. He'd never tried the hard stuff. He hated losing control of his thoughts. They were the one thing he could control. But he'd lost control of his life. His father and uncle were dead. He'd not been able to track Merle or Sophia. Carol's cries still rang in his ears. He was so angry with her, and he didn't understand it. She had given up on Sophia; she wanted him to stop searching because she didn't believe her daughter was alive. Daryl had desperately wanted to prove her wrong, to show that things could still go right. To show this woman that her faith was justified._

_He looked at the bright blue crystals. According to Merle, they would help him forget. He needed to forget, needed to lose himself, needed to feel nothing. He opened the bag and pulled out the prescription drugs and set them aside. There was a lot of meth. He had no idea how much was safe. His eyes lost their focus as he stared at oblivion. Time stood still._

_He stood up and with a cry of revulsion, threw the bag of drugs into the fire. He backed away from the pillar of smoke and threw more wood on the fire. Soon, the flames rose towards the sky along with the remnants of ruin. _

_He was poking the dying fire when Carol showed up to ask him about Lori._

He shivered with more than cold. He'd come very close to using meth then. Looking back, he thought that that was when he'd buried Merle in his heart. He'd believed he was the only Dixon left then. And now he truly was. The bonds he'd formed with Rick, Carol, and the rest kept yanking him away from despair. He would never forget Merle but he'd also never forget the lessons he'd learned. He did need people. People who needed him too. Merle had needed a shadow not a partner. With Rick, Daryl had a brother figure who trusted him to do what was needed and to make his own choices. He had a new family.

He turned around as Monica opened the door at the top. Although short, she'd proven to them all that she was a good shot. She nodded to him as she took over the duty station and he headed down.

A lantern's soft glow poured out of his cell. Carol was in there patching up a pair of pants that she'd torn that day. She held them up to the light. Her patches had patches. She'd need new pants soon. She looked up as he stepped in.

"You didn't go on a run today and get blankets. I did try to make things a little better. Remember when you got hurt and soaked right after we left the farm?" At his bemused nod, she added. "I heated up some broken bricks and put them in the bed."

Daryl smiled slightly. He remembered when they had all worked to keep him from getting pneumonia. That had shown him how much he had mattered to the group. It had been a close call but he was still around. "Yeah." He set his bowl down while Carol removed the now cooler bricks and placed them under the bunk. She climbed into the warmed bed first this time, scooted back, and patted the mattress.

"We've got an early start tomorrow," she said.

Bemused, Daryl took off his poncho to drape over them both and soon they were settled down again. Daryl rested on his back this time. He didn't want to roll back and squash Carol against the wall.

Carol rested her arm over his chest and snugged her forehead against his shoulder. "Night," she muttered. Soon they were both asleep.

Daryl was starting to mutter and his head was twisting from side to side. Carol woke but realized that he was dreaming.

Daryl's faint words became clearer. "No. Stay away! Damn it Merle! Not you too. I can't do it!" He continued on in a similar vein.

Carol was not a stupid woman. She guessed that Daryl had been forced to stop his brother. That he had faced their own worst nightmare: seeing someone they loved turn. Rick had taken care of Sophia. She had been prepared to take care of T-Dog. It seems Daryl had been forced to take care of Merle. Tears sprang to her eyes. Another mark against the Governor. She hoped Michonne found him soon. Maybe Daryl would be able to sleep undisturbed then.

He started to flail and Carol decided to wake him.

"Daryl," she shook his shoulder.

Daryl came awake with a start. "What? What's wrong? The Governor?"

"No, you were just dreaming."

"Did I say anything?"

Realizing that Daryl did not want to share with the others the depth of his loss, Carol said, "I didn't understand what you were saying." She could feel him relax beside her. Whether it was due to shame or something else, Daryl wanted to keep that pain to himself.

"Go back to sleep," was all she said and she draped her arm over his chest.

Daryl wasn't sure he believed her about not hearing anything. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell anyone about Merle turning; it just never seemed to be the right time or a good way. How do you bring up something like that especially weeks after it had happened? He laid his left arm across his body so that his fingers touched Carol's.

They slept.

* * *

_I have started writing the story about Daryl almost getting pneumonia. I really hoped you liked this. Please let me know if you would. Constructive criticism is welcome also. Happy season 4!_


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